


pine

by questionabletendencies



Series: pine [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Pining, haha no pun intended, idk this is just dum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionabletendencies/pseuds/questionabletendencies
Summary: Pine trees remind Michael of Jake Dillinger.





	pine

"Pine makes me think of Jake Dillinger," Michael says late one night whilst hanging off Jeremy's desk chair.

Michael doesn't know why he says it. It's words leaving his mouth without thought, that's all– It's late enough that they're allowed not to mean something, that they can be dumb midnight thoughts and dumb midnight thoughts alone.

Except they do mean something. There's a poignance to them Jeremy will not be able to fathom, if Michael's indifferent tone has any influence, but they still mean something. And that makes Michael's stomach twist within him.

They're words that are coming out of his mouth because they’ve grown unsatisfied with shuddering helplessly within him without room for closure, they've become restless and have chosen to take advantage of the fact that Michael is in the faux stupor that typically comes with the sounds and lights of 1 A.M. in Jeremy's room.

They’re words that are now mangled in with asinine secrets, words that Michael can no longer deny himself now that they’ve gotten what they want– A witness.

From the bed, Jeremy guffaws and echoes, only half curious, "Pine?"

Michael slouches in the desk chair. "Pine. Like... the smell of it, I guess."

"O-kay?" The bed that Jeremy lays on creaks enough for Michael to assume that he's shifted his position to look at Michael, but turning to confirm this is too hard of a task for Michael to endure at the moment. "Any reason why?"

His shoulders pull in a quick shrug, and his feet dance beneath him, numbly pulling the chair in circles so he can watch the ceiling spin above his head. "Not in particular."

Michael knows he only says that because he's stuck with just wanting to believe it. He _wants_ to have reason to believe it, he truly does, but every possible reason evades him, because, undeniably, Jake Dillinger specifically reminds Michael of elementary school pine trees. The three or four that had nestled themselves into a group at the corner of the playground, pine trees with flaky bark that was easy to chip away and recess toys that'd gotten themselves caught in the branches above. Both Jake and those trees are wrapped in effulgence, emanating feelings of a friendly familiarity that Michael has caught himself mentally ghosting over so many times it now feels more like a nuisance than a pleasantry.

Jake Dillinger reminds Michael of the feeling of elementary school pine tree bark digging into his back as they kiss, awkward and messy and ten years old. Too young, Michael thinks, to know what it means.

(Or maybe, he hopes. Michael has always had a habit of grasping for the best in people and situations, creating a dark line between hoping and thinking. He hopes that he wasn't as young and smitten as he was young and stupid, he hopes that the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest as Jake shot him a brace faced grin was an embellishment on the original memory that Michael had adopted as time passed. He hopes his ten year old self was naïve enough not to have instantly allowed a single, wet kiss on the lips to make him so immediately enamored with Jake Dillinger.)

Michael almost reaches up to touch his lips, but because Jeremy is still looking at him funny, he instead sets his chin against the top of the chair he's sat in. "Nevermind."

The subject is dropped, but even as midnight turns to dusk and secrets turn into snores, Michael feels stuck in the trap of his words as they dance around his head. With their newfound liberty, the words aren't afraid to creep back in through his mouth, uncomfortably tickling within his throat and stomach no matter how much he coughs or shifts to get them out. A heat creeps up his spine every now and then, prickling and unbearable in his scalp.

Fifth grade has turned to eleventh. The kiss before Michael really knew what a kiss was still haunts him in fleeting moments of eye contact with Jake Dillinger when they pass each other in the halls. It writhes in his heart and makes his face hot, fueled by the power of so much as a trace of a smile on Jake's face, and it punches him in the gut with no restraint when Jake’s eyes brush over him in the halls without a second thought.

Still.

Michael wonders whether or not pine intoxicates Jake Dillinger, too. If it's the same ambrosia to him as the one that enchants Michael. He wonders if whiffs of pine make Jake think about the quiet kid in the halls, the one who was scared stiff when Jake had cornered him against a pine tree and placed a warm kiss on his lips.

Michael wonders if Jake even remembers.

Michael hopes he does.

**Author's Note:**

> this work was kind of inspired by a collection of headcanons @couldyoupassmethegay on tumblr made so?? shout out to them!!
> 
> follow me on tumblr!!


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